


Bellamy's Bad Day

by these_dreams_go_on



Series: In the Bunker [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 09:58:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11288904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/these_dreams_go_on/pseuds/these_dreams_go_on
Summary: Bellamy has a bad day in the bunker, to the amusement of his friends.





	Bellamy's Bad Day

Bellamy Blake was not having a good day. 

And he hadn’t been expecting his day to go awesome, not when he’d started the morning walking into the bunker training room to find Roan there ready for a ‘sparring session’, he'd known then that he was in for a rough time. 

Because it doesn’t matter how much this cross-training Grounder and Skaikru guards is in the name of peace, Azgeda’s king is not going to miss a chance to put him on his ass.  

And Bellamy might be in charge of teaching the Grounder’s to shoot with rubber bullets, but he weighed up the risk and figures he’s known to be too good a shot to ‘accidentally’ get Roan in the balls. 

So he figures he’ll get it over with and after having his legs knocked out from under him and getting reacquainted with gravity and the training mat, he waits until he can remember how to breathe before accepting the scarred hand helping him to his feet. 

“You’re getting better.” Roan judges, with only the barest hint of sweat on his body. 

“Am I?” Bellamy responds, “Or are you just getting tired from kicking my ass every day?”

Roan raises his eyebrows ever so slightly, his way of showing amusement at having his word challenged,

“Agree to disagree.” he decides before heading to the bench running along the far side of the wall. 

Bellamy hears his name called and turns to see Noct from Sangedakru standing behind him, “Shall we fight?”

Nope. 

Bellamy is smart enough to know when someone wanted to spar with him and when someone wanted to beat the crap out of him. And Roan got away with it because he was Azgeda’s king and one of the reasons Octavia kept her position as Heda. 

“No, thanks,” he answers with a small grin, “Maybe tomorrow.”

What happens next is partially his own fault, he turns his back and is making his way to his people, who were getting ready for their own sparring sessions with Grounders, when he hears Roan’s angry shout. 

He’s looking past him and Bellamy instinctively turns out, crossing his arms and holding them up to protect his head. 

The wooden staff collides with his forearms which immediately lodge a protest and he staggers back against the force of the blow, getting his footing and reaching up to snatch the staff. He manages to grab the wood with one hand and holds on, Noct doing his best to break his grip but he’s quickly surrounded. Weapons aren’t allowed in the training room but sheer numbers prevent Noct from ignoring the message that he needed to back down immediately. 

“Only cowards attack when their enemies back is turned,” Roan spits, “Leave.”

And Sangedakru don’t obey Azgeda but Noct still leaves, although he lingers long enough to spit on Bellamy’s shoe. 

Wonderful. 

Bellamy shakes his arms out, noting the instant bruise and slight swelling on his skin, “Mind telling me what I did to piss him off?” he asks Roan, wracking his brain to figure it out, but the Grounder shakes his head, “Later.”

Okay. 

 

Later turns out to be lunchtime, after Abby has examined him, pronounced nothing broken but jarred and told him to take a day to rest and recover. 

Which he hasn’t done since landing on Earth but he’s sure he’ll get a day off sometime in the future. 

Clarke was down in Farm Station tending to the medicinal herb gardens but managed a quick call up to check on him and try to co-ordinate lunch but Bellamy isn’t holding out hope. 

Wanheda might have been forcibly retired after the first few days in the bunker but Clarke had active days in the medical station and trying to determine the perfect mix of Grounder medicine, faith and Skaikru medicine and science.

He gets to the lunch hall to find a table in the midst of occupation by John, Emori, some more of his delinquents, Octavia and Roan, who was staring at Jasper as if he couldn’t decide whether or not to punch his lights out. 

And Bellamy knows that Jasper liked to provoke people very much capable of cracking his skull like a jobi nut, so he grabs his rations and heads to the table, using his status to jerk his head and make Jasper move along the bench to make room for him directly across from Roan. 

Judging from his empty plate, Roan had clearly been first at the table and found himself an unwilling host as people joined him, so Bellamy figures the man is close to losing his temper. 

He clears his throat, still hoping to get his answer, “Noct?” he prompts, and Octavia looks up from her own plate,

“Heard you were attacked,” she comments, clearly unconcerned and running her eyes over him, “You good?”

He shrugs, “I’ll be better when I know why the hell that kid’s out to get me.”

Roan glances at the delinquents at the table but Bellamy picks up his fork, showing he’s willing to have the issue discussed before them. 

The way the rumor mill went anyway, they might as well go out with a grain of truth. 

“You know Clarke was sleeping with him.” Roan begins and Bellamy begins chewing on his bread roll, nodding slightly. 

He’d met the guy in Clarke’s room and while he hadn’t seen the appeal himself, Clarke hadn’t been overly invested in the guy so he hadn’t bothered making an effort to get to know him. 

“He pissed off because Clarke ended things with him?” Bellamy guesses but Roan runs his tongue over his teeth, 

“Not exactly,” he responds, “Do you know that Trikru and Trishanakru call you Wanheda’s Trikova?”

He nods again while Jasper picks up on that detail, “Trikova?” he muses, turning to Octavia, “What’s that?”

“Shadow,” Octavia translates, her eyes glancing to Roan’s cup before taking her own, and Jasper hums, “Fitting.”

“Well, Sangedakru didn’t know your name either,” Roan elaborates, 

“And the first they knew of you was after I took you hostage to force Clarke’s hand, and then here in the bunker, when my men took you hostage to make Clarke release me.”

Bellamy makes a circular gesture with his hand, preferring not to relive the first month in the bunker when it had been revealed that Clarke had had Roan fished out of the fountain and brought down to the bunker, hidden away in the lowest levels until she could determine whether his survival would jeopardize Octavia’s rule. He’d been grabbed by Azgeda and held by Echo. 

He and Roan owed their lives to Gaia’s willingness to re-interpret religious laws. 

“After that, they started calling you Wanheda’s bezer,” he continues,

“Favourite.” Octavia answers before anyone at the table can ask. 

And Bellamy is still young enough to get where Roan is going with this and he has the sensation of watching a truck speeding towards a cliff. 

“They’ve seen you leaving Clarke’s room at all hours,” Roan explains, pushing his cup to Octavia who drains the dregs, 

“Between you, Niylah and some others. They think Clarke has a…” he pauses, trying to think of the word in gonasleng.  

“Harem.” Octavia provides, and Bellamy glares at her for her treachery but she only shrugs, “What? It’s what he meant”

“And that you’re her favorite lover,” Roan explains as the delinquents around the table begin smirking into their food and Bellamy notes this for future punishment. 

“Noct was hoping to usurp your position,” he says, even though Bellamy’s eyes are clearly screaming for silence, 

“When Clarke ended things with him, he got desperate enough to attack you.”

This is the most Bellamy has ever heard Roan say and he would have been fine having not heard any of it.

 He opens his mouth a few times to try and come up with a response but his brain has checked out and left a white noise soundtrack in its place.

“Are you _kidding_ me?” he finally manages, just as he feels a familiar presence at his shoulder and climbing over the bench to settle in next to him. 

 

“Hey guys,” Clarke says down the table as she sets her plate down and pulls Bellamy’s closer, “What are we talking about?”

“The Grounders think you have a harem,” Miller reports, meeting Bellamy’s murderous glare and daring him to act on that unspoken threat. 

“And that Bellamy is your number one.”

“Oh,” Clarke answers, grabbing Bellamy’s fork and using it with hers to trade part of her meat for his vegetables. “Yeah.”

She doesn’t show the faintest hint of surprise, seemingly more shocked that the food is edible than that the majority of the Earth’s population thought she was had more lovers than she did clean clothes. 

“You knew about this?” Bellamy demands as Clarke begins eating, 

“You _knew_?”

She nods, “Niylah told me,” she confirms, “Makes sense when you think about it.”

His eyelids aren’t dropping back to their usual position and she shrugs, 

“Delfikru thinks we’re married and calls you my houmon,” she offers as if his concern was for his relationship status. 

“How long have you known about this?” he asks and she shrugs, tearing apart the bread as she thinks. 

“It was after ALIE,” she begins, clearly having to think back and Bellamy can feel the heat in his cheeks, “But _before_ the Ark went up in flames.”

So, a solid half year ago. 

And here he thought he and Clarke told each other everything.

"And you didn’t tell me?!” he demands, struggling to keep his voice low and she finally seems surprised, “I was a little busy,” she points out, “We all were.”

“Nuclear fallout bad, Bellamy.” Jasper intones from his other side, earning a smirk from Octavia. 

“So’s this!” he snaps, turning to Jasper before turning back to Clarke. 

And immediately realizing his mistake. 

“Really?” she questions, spearing one of his artichokes, “You put the mere thought of sleeping with me on the same level as the nuclear apocalypse?”

His brain has finally caught up with his mouth and is trying to order a hasty retreat. “Well…not on the same level.” he attempts and Clarke chews thoughtfully while the delinquents are snickering behind his back, 

“So…” Murphy begins, “If you had to rate the idea of sex with Clarke against the disasters we’ve experienced, would you say it’s as bad as when we were dropped on the wrong mountain without supplies or when we first encountered the Grounders or…”

“Stop talking.” Emori orders, clearly having enough survival instinct in her for the both of them. 

Clarke, having no concern that Bellamy would ever harm her, resumes her part in the conversation, “So, if you had to choose between having sex with me, or death by nuclear radiation?”

Is there any truly safe way for Bellamy to answer that question? 

Probably not in the middle of the food hall with his sister and several witnesses. Either way it went, he was pretty sure he wasn’t leaving the place alive. 

At least Octavia would be on hand to carry out his death rites and Roan was still sitting there, in case they decided a Grounder funeral was called for. 

“Glad you weren’t given the same choice when it came to our marriage.” Roan says to Octavia who grimaces, still holding his cup, 

“You are preferable to agonizing death by black rain.” she replies and Bellamy wishes he could echo that response. 

But he had a very different relationship to Clarke than Octavia did to Roan.  

At least with the Commander and Azgeda’s king witness to his justifiable murder, Clarke wouldn’t suffer any consequences. 

“Bellamy!” 

His salvation is Kane’s hand on his shoulder, “You’re needed in the security center,” he announces, “Now.”

He gets up so quickly he bangs his knees on the table and nearly trips over the bench, Kane alone stopping him from hitting the ground and smashing his brains in. 

Which he’s not entirely thankful for at the moment. 

“This isn’t over.” Clarke calls to his back and he winces as he follows Kane into the hallway. 

“Thanks.” he manages to mumble and Kane has the decency to try and hide his amusement.

“You know,” he begins, “There’s a look Clarke gets in her eyes when you’re threatened or in danger…as if she would tear apart your enemies and spit on their graves.”

He tilts his head in contemplation, “I’ve never seen her direct that look towards you before.”

He claps him on the shoulder, “Good luck with that Wanheda’s bezer.”

Bellamy glares at him, “Thanks.” he repeats, sarcastically this time. 

He should never have got out of bed.   

 


End file.
